


Divinity Defined

by Terminallydepraved



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Consensual Sex, Eros!hisoka, Explicit Sexual Content, Greek Mythology AU, Kidnapping, M/M, Oral Sex, Psyche!chrollo, Rimming, attempted rape by OC, dubcon, eros/psyche au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 17:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7181462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>got another long ass chapter fic for you all. check out the original myth if youre interested in what im drawing from. this is more of an homage to it than a direct translation of the myth so i am taking liberties. please enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> got another long ass chapter fic for you all. check out the original myth if youre interested in what im drawing from. this is more of an homage to it than a direct translation of the myth so i am taking liberties. please enjoy!

The busy market place thrummed with the murmur of hundreds, all jostling and vying to be the first in line for the premium wares displayed in the agora’s stalls. Chrollo slipped through the cracks in the throng, dipping and ducking and snatching purse strings. By the time his marks had noticed the lightness of their belt, he was already gone, moving on to the next target to increase the weight of his own.

Chrollo snickered to himself as he palmed another pouch. These people were such easy hits, all too concerned with finding the perfect sacrifice for the evening’s rites to notice the thief at their sides. Across the market, nearly hidden completely by the towering figures, Chrollo caught sight of Feitan who was taking advantage of his small size to bob and weave, amassing wealth the way a bird would collect twigs for a nest.

Their eyes met and the challenged burned unspoken between them. Chrollo shot him a grin and dove into the nearest crowd, determined to bring back a bigger haul than his friend. Regardless of the winner, they would both be able to eat their fill tonight.

The bag on Chrollo’s shoulder quickly grew heavy with the weight of his spoils and he made his way to the center of the agora, Feitan dancing through the milling mass with his own satchel bulging with loot. With the sun rising higher, they met and moved to the shade, comparing each other’s haul by hefting the bags.

“I have more,” Feitan taunted, tossing Chrollo’s bag to him with a victorious grin. “You lose.”

Chrollo rolled his eyes and caught it, throwing Fei’s back to him with a bit more force than necessary. “You don’t know that for sure, we need to count to tell. Maybe I have better quality. Gold is worth more than silver, if you forgot,” he said, crouching down to watch the crowds. As the people began to shop, he caught the spreading sounds of anger, confusion, and fear begin to spread as customers realized they had no money to pay for their purchases.

The gods would be angry tonight, with such paltry sacrifices. The thought made Chrollo grin, and he saw his mirth reflected on Feitan’s face as he no doubt caught the line of his thoughts.

“You ever wonder if our sacrilege will be our downfall?” Chrollo asked, making himself comfortable on the dusty stone. “Zeus himself might strike us down for cutting his offerings so short.”

Feitan didn’t sit, but he leaned against the near wall and kicked at the stones at his feet. “I not fear gods,” he snorted, basking in the pleasure of the mayhem they had caused. “Least of all a foreign one.”

Chrollo smiled. “No, you aren’t the type to be. Can’t say the same for them though,” he gestured, angry men tearing through the crowd in search of the thief they thought was still in their midst. “Poor things, slaves to superstition.”

“Why you not afraid?” Feitan asked, dipping his hand into his bag to play with a handful of the stolen coin. “You from this city. Why you not fear your patron gods?”

Humming, Chrollo watched the shiny glint dance in his friend’s small hand. Feitan was relatively new to the city, having come from some far off place with the latest batch of slaves. It hadn’t taken him long to escape, and Chrollo figured it would be hard for a foreigner to hold anything but contempt for his jailor’s deities.

“I live in this city. I don’t belong here,” Chrollo said simply, staring out over the agora and up at the hills on either side, the temples of the gods prominent in everyone’s mind. With them watching like hawks, it was no wonder that mortals feared divine retribution for shirking their duties. Humans were so interesting.

Feitan didn’t reply, instead grunting as he began to count the coins in the first purse he had pulled from the stack. He wondered what his friend would buy with the day’s haul. Food definitely. Probably the good wine, enough to last them both a few days if the others didn’t come wanting to share.

Chrollo laid back against the ground and daydreamed of sweet rolls, sticky with honey and pistachio. It’d been too long since he’d had them. His stomach growled at the thought alone. They’d be able to buy so many.

“There!” a voice shouted, loud enough to carry over the squabbling din. “That’s my money! Thieves!”

A hundred sets of eyes turned on them and Chrollo was rushing to his feet before the cry finished echoing off the stone. He met eyes with Feitan, a sharp nod enough to tell him that they would be splitting up. Fei had the money, which meant it was Chrollo’s job to buy him time to run.

Feitan darted left and Chrollo feinted right, tearing through the market as a hoard of angry men charged them. Chrollo didn’t bother to look after his friend, trusting him to disappear into the labyrinthine streets with the spoils.

Vaulting over a wooden table, Chrollo narrowly evaded the hands that came at him. A quick kick sent a stall toppling over, buying him a moment to lose himself in the market. Women shrieked as he tore past, dogs and chickens and bleating lambs growing agitated as the chaos mounted.

Only when he was sure Feitan had had enough time to evade did he try for his own escape.

Panting and sweating, he looked over his shoulder to see the remaining men still chasing him, their eyes wild and angry. He shot them a smile and sped up, leaping over stands, merchandise, and the gated wall that separated the agora from the hillside. The temple to Aphrodite was closest and he made for it, hoping to lose them on the upward incline.

Decades of quick escapes kept him running even when his breath came short and his lungs burned.

Chrollo pumped his legs and focused on the ground below his feet, weaving through the steady stream of foot traffic that littered the way. The temple was closed to all until the grand sacrifice that night, but it didn’t stop people from milling about, their lambs and cattle in tow as they waited for the their place in line.

A lamb bleated at him as he sprinted past and Chrollo huffed out a laugh. The poor thing had no idea what would be meeting it when its turn came.

People grunted and shouted as he pushed his way past them all, but he ignored it, still hearing the far off bellow of the few fit men that had managed to keep up with him. The ivory temple rose up overhead and he threw himself into its cool embrace, rushing to find someplace to hide before a priest or pursuer spotted him.

The temple to Aphrodite was as luxurious as he remembered, having hid inside once during a particularly bad rainstorm a few years ago. The cold, flawless marble floor was padded with thick carpets, plush and muting beneath his feet. Though the temple was closed, the altar was still piled high with old offerings, gold and silver and gems and tokens of lovers seeking the goddess’s grace in their pursuits for happiness.

He shot a quick look over his shoulder and saw no one, but he jogged regardless towards the far end, searching for the chests that held the sacrificial tools. The last time he had needed to hide in a temple, he found that he just fit inside, albeit a bit uncomfortably.

Panic began to blossom in his stomach though as he failed to see the chest. He turned wildly, scrambling to the altar, but there was nothing in sight. The priests must have moved it for the night’s offering, his mind supplied, and he was just about to turn to dart behind a thick tapestry when his pursuers finally caught up with him.

Rough hands seized him from behind and Chrollo cried out as he was thrown into a column, his head cracking against the brutal marble.

Black spotted his vision and Chrollo tried to hold himself up, dazed. A lumbering figure bore down on him, some brute he recognized from the band chasing him. The man was livid, his face apoplectic from the strain of the exertion, but he looked to be the only one who had managed to keep up.

His head rang and Chrollo tried to cover his face with his hands, already knowing he wouldn’t be strong enough to fend the man off, even if he was the only one.

“You little thief,” the man snarled, grabbing him by the arms to pin him to the column. “Thought the gods would save you? You ran to the wrong temple.”

Chrollo winced and struggled but for his efforts he only bought himself another dash against the stone. He sagged and was barely able to keep upright. The hands, rough and invasive, began to tear at his clothing after the empty bag fell to his feet. “Where is the money?” he hissed, instead going for his bare skin when Chrollo couldn’t answer. “I chased you for too long to take an empty sack back.”

His eyes widened when the man pressed closer, forcing him to turn so his face scraped against the marble. Hot, fetid breath hit his face and he began to shake, realization hitting him like another physical blow.

“Please,” he whispered, trembling as relentless hands bruised his thighs, forcing them open. “Please stop-”

“Shut up,” the man shouted, echoing off the temple walls.

Chrollo’s vision wavered like a heat wave and he sagged against the cold stone, his mind going white. _This couldn’t be happening_ , he thought quietly, far too calm and detached to do him much good. Hot, disgusting fingers touched his chest, the brute’s hard length rubbing against him from behind.

His eyes stared at the offerings littering the altar, at the blank eyed statues of the goddess and her winged son watching on with pitiless eyes. It was the son that he saw most, the strong, wavy haired figure with his quiver full.

 He knew the names but not the prayers.

For the first time in his life, Chrollo felt compelled to pray.

 _Please_ , he mouthed to the stone god, his body going limp as his sight went black. _Please, help me. Don’t let this happen._

As the darkness claimed him, Chrollo registered the scent of iron, the burn of something hot and wet against his skin, and the muted gurgle of a throat slit.

Soft, gentle hands settled on him and he surrendered to unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

His head ached when he woke.

Chrollo winced and didn’t open his eyes, the pain a dull, blinding force along his temples. Gingerly, he reached up a hand to touch his hair, hissing as the touch, light as it was, sent another stab through his skull.

He slowly cracked open an eye and pushed himself up, the soft blankets slipping down to pool in his lap. Blearily, he looked around at the opulent room, the massive bed. The walls were a pristine white, interspersed with large windows that let in enough natural light to make them glow. Chrollo’s mouth slowly fell open the more he took in his surroundings. He had never seen such wealth before, even in the manors of the city.

Carefully he slid out of the bed, his bare feet greeted by the softest carpet he had ever felt. Thick and a deep azure, it had all the properties of walking on a smooth sea. For a moment he wondered if he were still dreaming.

Nothing so beautiful could possibly follow the fear from before.

The thought alone sent him gagging, bile rising up in his throat bitterly as the phantom burn of the man’s hands on his thighs returned like a physical force. With shaking hands he reached for his legs, prodding the muscle as he took stock of his body. Had it happened? He couldn’t remember, his bruised mind a fog.

His fingers yielding nothing though. There were no marks or aches beyond that on his head. Someone had redressed him in a simple purple chiton, the common design similar to what he normally wore but daunted by the brilliant color. Chrollo ran his hands over it, his mouth dry. It would cost a small fortune to dye so much fabric such a rare color. He couldn’t help but notice how it matched his complexion.

“Hello?” he called out, his voice so small in the expansive room.

There was no answer and he slowly moved towards the door, pushing past the heavy oak to enter the hall.

He could already tell that what he occupied was more mansion than house, more palatial than anything he’d ever seen before.  The wealth decorating the walls made his fingers itch and he clenched them into fists to resist the urge to steal from his savior. Or well, who he assumed was his savior. Not much else made sense as to why he’d be here, dressed like a prince and no worse for wear.

His stomach chose that moment to growl noisily, empty and demanding. Chrollo sighed and picked a direction, walking silently down the hall until he came to another, and then some stairs, and then another hallway, repeating the method until he finally came to something resembling a sitting room.

A large fire crackled in the hearth and he approached it eagerly, warming himself. The house was even more massive than he had anticipated, and the thick stone walls kept it chilly. Even with the sun shining brightly through the scattered windows, he shivered in the thin chiton.

There was a gentle tug to his belt and Chrollo jolted, spinning with his fists ready to swing.

“Who’s there?” he called out, seeing nothing in his line of sight. His heart pounded and the fire crackled, nearly loud enough to deafen.

Another tug, this time to his wrist, and Chrollo’s eyes went wide as some invisible force tapped his skin politely, almost as if asking for his attention.

The moment objects began to float, Chrollo shut off his rational thought and simply let it go.

A platter that had been resting on a short table moved by itself, lifting to Chrollo’s waist level to present a chalice of water to him. For lack of a better option, Chrollo took it. He didn’t want to look rude.

“Are you a servant?” he asked, his eyes searching for something to focus on that wasn’t the silver tray. “Can you tell me where I am? Who brought me here?”

There was no answer and he couldn’t even tell if it was because the servant was forbidden to speak or simply that it couldn’t. The tray bobbed up and down, moving towards the door before doubling back. It only took a few passes for Chrollo to gather that it wanted him to follow, and he went with a curious ease.

With nothing else to do but follow, Chrollo sipped at the water in his hand and tried again to ask for information.

“Can you speak?” he tried, and the platter gave a bob, one that he figured meant no.

“Are you allowed to answer any of my questions?”

A short jerk, half a bob and half a shake. He took that as a maybe.

“You can’t answer my questions about the one who brought me here, right?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “Or why I’m here.”

A bob, and this one made him sigh.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Chrollo gave, settling the cup back on the tray when it was held out to him the moment he finished, almost as if the servant knew it was empty. “Can you tell me where you’re taking me at least?”

He startled a bit as something touched his stomach, light and as polite as it could be given the state of the one answering. Chrollo tried not to jump or think too hard about the odd shape of the assumed hand.

“Food?” he ventured.

The tray bobbed and Chrollo hummed. It had been awhile since he last ate.

They pushed through a large door after another few minutes of walking, taking them into an intimately sized dining room. Sofas littered the space, small tables interspersed in a way that was conducive to small meals with close friends. The platter led him through the room and towards the far end where he could see a place already made up, presumably for him.

The table was small, set for only one, but it was heavily laden with food. Platters floated by, carried by more of the invisible staff. Chrollo’s mouth began to water, his stomach noisily coming to life as the scent washed over him. It didn’t take much to coax him into a seat and to dig in.

Sweet rolls, lamb, cheese; so many delicacies were spread out before him and Chrollo helped himself to a bit of all of it. He had no name for some of the dishes but he tried them regardless, the taste melting in his mouth with a richness that made his head spin.

A pang of regret settled somewhere high on his shoulders when his thoughts strayed to Feitan. A bowl piled high with plum tarts stared at him, a tangible reminder of his friend’s favorite treats. He flagged down one of the servants as they rushed by balancing a stack of empty plates, and he asked for the tarts to be taken away.

He startled a bit when, mid-bite, music began to play.

His fork clattered to the table and he turned in his seat, taking in the floating instruments that had gathered off to the side. A lyre sung sweetly, its tortoise shell reverberating as skillfully as if it were being played by Apollo himself. Chrollo swallowed his mouthful of food and wandered over, figuring it was yet another display of the strange magic of the manor.

The second he reached out to touch the floating lyre, the music stopped.

Chrollo retracted his hand. “Please don’t stop,” he whispered, feeling silly talking to empty air. “I was just curious. I won’t touch.”

To prove himself honest, he backed away and sat down in his chair, nodding encouragingly at whatever invisible force occupied the corner. The music began again, as sweet and pure as it had been before, and Chrollo smiled as he helped himself to another sweet roll.

Eventually though, the natural light dimmed with the dusk and the servants brought out candles. The table cleared, the music slowed, and Chrollo stared blearily at the opulent dining room, wishing for all the world to be sharing the moment with someone else.

He turned to a floating candle and it stopped immediately, waiting for him to speak.

“Can I bathe?” he asked, his voice quiet in the seemingly empty room. “I want to bathe before I head to bed.”

The candle dipped as if nodding and Chrollo rose to his feet, following the gentle light through a dozen halls.

It handed the candle to him when they finally stopped at a door and Chrollo accepted it gratefully, entering alone for all he could tell. The chamber was cool and comprised mostly of stone, the center dedicated to an inlaid bath filled with water that steamed.

Shedding his clothing quickly, Chrollo settled the candle next to the edge and slipped into the water, savoring its hot embrace. Soaps and oils were situated on the far end and he waded to them, rubbing a fragrant bar until it lathered and washing his hair. The room filled with the scent of jasmine. It was the most luxurious thing he’d ever experienced.

He soaked for as long as he could stand before the water threatened to lull him to sleep. Standing, he reached for a drying cloth, taking it in hand and patting himself dry. His skin felt unthinkably soft from the oil, his hair a treat to touch. He made a note to steal the bath supplies first, if he found himself in a position to profit from this kidnapping.

With nothing left to do, he put back on the old garment and scooped up the candle, heading to the door. Another was already waiting for him, be it the servant from before or a different one, he couldn’t tell. The candle bobbed in its nonexistent hand and Chrollo followed, ready to see the day come to an end.

Chrollo yawned and let the invisible force guide him back to the bedroom, the manor unreadable in the dying light of sunset. The door opened and he gave his thanks, the servant wandering off with a soft sigh.

Already on the bed was a change of clothes. Chrollo held them in his hands for a moment, taking in what he knew from countless curious touches in the market places was silk. In the dying light of the setting sun, Chrollo slipped off his clothing, exchanging it for the new garment that fell like liquid against his skin. He had thought the chiton was finery, but this daunted even that.

He stared at the purple chiton and wondered what to do with it. The servant had left, and he didn’t want to bother them again. He settled for folding it gently and resting it on a nearby chest, the lid engraved with an image of a god enticing a mortal with an outstretched hand.

It made his stomach turn a bit, his nerves suddenly uneasy. The light retracted faster and Chrollo covered the image with the chiton before climbing into the massive bed. Silken sheets caressed his skin like a soft touch and he burrowed deeper into them, the exhaustion of the day weighing him down like an anchor into the sea.

The sun set and the room went black, no stars or moon to provide a gentle glow. Chrollo closed his eyes and tried to ignore the growing unease at the pitch enveloping him. Something was unnatural about the dark, but with his eyes closed it seemed untouched.

Suddenly though, he had to open his eyes.

The overwhelming sensation of someone watching him washed over him in a wave, and Chrollo cursed himself for thinking that the owner of the manor wouldn’t seek him out.

Clearing his throat, he tried to call out. “Is someone there?” he managed, though to his own ears he sounded small, scared. He buried his face in the sheets, praying there wouldn’t be a reply.

It came, regardless of Chrollo’s fervent prayers.

“Just me,” a low, decidedly masculine voice crooned. “Good evening.”

There was no way to hold back his startled cry. Chrollo tensed and looked blindly into the darkness, the soft, slick sheets losing their comfort as the voice loomed closer.

“Shh, lovely one, there’s nothing to be afraid of here,” it came again, trying to sound gentle but the laugh underlying the words left it falling short. “You’re safe. I brought you to my home, so let’s get acquainted.”

A dip in the mattress gave Chrollo a direction and he shoved himself back, the thick headboard refusing to allow him more distance from whatever it was approaching.

“I didn’t ask for that,” he hissed, and though it was dark, he could now feel the humored stare lay heavy on his skin. Gooseflesh rose where it fell and he bared his teeth. “Show me the face of the monster that took me from my home.”

Shock, an icy vice, gripped his heart as his ankle was seized. Chrollo cried out as he was yanked away from the headboard, his hands and feet thrashing out to strike whatever had him. A low laugh sounded somewhere below his struggles and he aimed a fist towards the sound.

The beast merely tsked, catching his hand easily before bringing it to its mouth to kiss.

“What a temper for such a beauty,” it sighed, and Chrollo shivered as its breath tickled the thin skin of his inner wrist. “Won’t you please let me enjoy you? I did save you after all.”

He felt a hard, firm body settle over him, humanoid enough to dissuade him from thinking he had been kidnapped by a dragon or some other abomination. It didn’t pacify him though and he shoved at the chest holding him down, snarling like a trapped fox.

“I am not some plaything to be enjoyed!” he fought, grimacing as a warm mouth fell to his neck. “Let me go, take me back, I don’t want to be here-”

And just like that, the weight over him disappeared.

Chrollo gaped into the darkness, certain that it was some sort of trick. Cold rushed to replace the warmth from the absent body and Chrollo held himself tight, remembering the foul, painful hands of the man from the temple. He pushed himself upright and tried aimlessly to see through the black, but there was no sign of movement, no indication of where his kidnapper could be. Shaking, Chrollo wrapped his arms around his legs.

“Why did you save me?” he found himself whispering, clenching his fingers in the sheets. “Why did you bring me here, with all this wealth?”

“Because you’re beautiful, my love,” the voice answered, soothing in the way a child would use to entice a feral cat to eat from their hand. “I want you. You deserve to be treated well, worshipped. More than what that heretic would have given you.”

He startled as warm fingers skimmed his bare arm, gentle and soft. A smiling mouth grazed his cheek, kissing him chastely. He hadn’t felt the mattress dip or any indication of the voice’s approach. Chrollo bit his lip and didn’t bother trying to shrug off the inquisitive touch, figuring it would only be a stopgap measure at most. This suitor obviously wasn’t human.

Warmth followed every kiss and Chrollo whined, heat building in his face and stomach. “That’s hardly a reason at all,” he said, flushing as his hand was taken and laved with attention, the voice’s soft lips paying special care to kiss his every finger.

“Do I need more?” it asked, and Chrollo shivered as the mouth moved its focus to his ear and along his throat. Warm breath tickled his damp hair, making his skin prickle. Clever hands settled on his shoulders and slipped beneath his thin robe, tugging the fabric down with painstaking slowness only half hidden by the kisses that chased it from his skin. The pin on the shoulder held strong for only a moment before unclasping. Silk pooled in his lap, leaving his torso bare.

The cool air was no match for the heat of the figure at his back and Chrollo knew that what held him was more man than beast.

No beast could be so tender.

The mouth drew shapes along his shoulders and hands guided him to lay down on the bed and for the life of him, Chrollo didn’t know why he allowed it. The dark had not lessened and he still could not see.

The man, for it had to be a man, was as indecipherable to him as a foreign tongue.

“Wait,” Chrollo cut in, stopping the hand from dipping any lower than it already had, “what do you think you’re doing?” Strong fingers laced with his own, so large it nearly encompassed his entirely.

The darkness laughed. “You are so innocent,” he sighed, and Chrollo gasped as a thigh fell between his legs, rolling into him teasingly. Chrollo hadn’t felt him move over him. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

Chrollo tried to reply but was cut off by a kiss, his denial smothered before he could so much as sputter. A tongue pressed its way inside his mouth, pulling a choked moan from him. He tried to lift his hands to touch the man’s face, only to have his wrists seized and pinned on either side of his head. It wasn’t fair, not in the slightest, and Chrollo whined even as he tried to chase after the mouth as it pulled away.

“I want you, Chrollo,” the voice whispered, heady and low, and Chrollo swallowed a gasp, unsure of how this person knew his name but unable to gather the energy to wonder. “Please, let me have you. You’re so beautiful, I need you.”

He tugged aimlessly at his captured hands, every shift of his body rubbing him against the muscled thigh. It was too much, everything was moving too fast, and he burned. He burned for more and he didn’t know what to do when the skilled mouth dipped down for another kiss.

Chrollo settled for kissing back, and, with his eyes closed and the darkness embracing him, he nodded.

Strong, searing hands traced down his held wrists, their downward path laced with kisses, playful nipping bites, and the removal of his clothing. Sheer silk and soft linen left with a whisper and Chrollo shook as the cold was chased with heat, the man holding him so intent on devouring every inch of skin as it was bared.

His hands lay limply alongside his head and Chrollo failed miserably to keep his noises to himself. “Ah, please,” he moaned as the man’s touch fell to his nipples, his mouth rolling and sucking while his hand teased lower. “This is- gods, why are you touching me there?”

“Does it feel good, love?” the voice asked, kissing down his ribs until his breath tickled his hardness. “Just look how excited you are.”

Chrollo gave a muffled groan, moving his hands to cover his eyes though the darkness already hid him. His thighs trembled as the mouth trailed biting kisses along them, the hands parting them to expose him fully. “Please don’t tease me,” he mumbled, wanting nothing more than to close his legs.

What felt like a cheek brushed his inner thigh, comforting were it not for the smile he could feel against his skin. “I’m sorry, sweet. Bear with it a bit,” the voice sighed, kissing his shaft with a quiet hum. “You look so perfect, feel so soft. You make me want to be a little mean.”

Gasping, Chrollo went stiff and tried to swallow back the instinctual urge to buck into it. “Can you…can you see me?” he stuttered, his face burning as a tongue licked at him languidly, almost lazily, as if this were just a game.

The voice hummed again, a smile curling around his cock as the man took him in.

Chrollo bit his lip hard enough to taste iron and covered his face with the nearest pillow. “That’s not fair,” he moaned, half muffled. His lower body shook and he writhed as the mouth worked him to the point of breaking, sucking at the tip of his cock until all he could see were stars.

Fingers, wet with something, he didn’t know what, couldn’t quite care enough to think about it, fell to his entrance and teased the opening, rubbing in time to every bob the mouth made. Chrollo tore at the pillow until he felt feathers, his body rolling up to meet both as tension built like a spring about to break.

A single finger slipped inside and Chrollo lost what little control he had left, coming with a broken cry and half a sob. His hips were held in place when he tried to thrust into the mouth, the man drinking him down until Chrollo felt his sanity leave his body with it.

“Your body is so honest,” the voice crooned, a little rough. “I think it would tell me anything if I asked nicely enough. Won’t you let me see you? I want to see you come apart for me.”

Chrollo tightened his grip on the pillow, still shaking from his orgasm.

“Please?” the voice breathed, his fingers thrusting in and out, still buried inside Chrollo.

A kiss tickled his knee and Chrollo didn’t fight when a hand pulled the pillow away, his token protest found only in a small noise that was lost in the darkness between them. He stared blindly towards what he assumed was the man, his hand searching for skin in the dark.

He met soft hair, barely getting to run his fingers through the longish locks before his wrist was gently taken and kissed.

“I…I want to touch you too,” Chrollo whispered, his breath short as another finger stretched him slowly, rubbing inside him in dizzying circles. “If I can’t see you, I want to touch you.”

“You can, you can, my pet,” the voice said, resettling his hand on what felt like a strong, smooth shoulder. “Anywhere but my face.”

“I wouldn’t have thought someone who could kidnap another and then do _this-”_ his voice broke as the fingers teased something inside him, “-would be so shy.”

“Maybe it’s for your benefit?” the voice posed, adding a third finger and making Chrollo’s eyes squeeze shut. “Perhaps I’m a beast and I’d rather give you the illusion of a man?”

The vestiges of fear from before kindled in his stomach alongside the pleasure, mixing into something that Chrollo couldn’t quite process. He spread his legs wider and dug his nails into the skin beneath his hand. He couldn’t stop his noises from breaking free and Chrollo threw back his head, surrendering to whatever had him and wanted him and laughed as he kissed.

“I’m surprised,” the voice said, nipping his neck. “I would have expected some resistance after saying that, but you just open yourself up to me even more. What a mystery you are.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Chrollo groaned, arching his back for more attention. “I’m not some blushing maiden, if you’re going to fuck me then fuck me.”

Surprise colored the blackness and he felt the fingers stutter in their movements, cutting the pleasure off just like that. “What language,” his suitor laughed, voice full of admonition. “Such a sweet face too, it’s akin to watching a flower vomit. You certainly are my type.”

Chrollo bit the inside of his cheek and grew impatient, bucking into the motionless hand. “Don’t stop now,” he panted, his cock red and flushed, the orgasm from before doing little to curb his appetite.

He whined when instead of movement, he got the fingers removed entirely. A strong hand clapped down on his hip and kept him from trying to follow, the invisible man chuckling.

“Patience, dear one,” he crooned, and in the quiet room Chrollo made out the sound of something wet being poured, followed by a muted hum. His cheeks burned red when he realized the man was touching himself, coating his own cock with the slick liquid.

Anticipation and anxiety fluttered in his stomach loud enough to hear and Chrollo fell bonelessly into the pillows, covering his face with his arms.

“Oh, what’s this?” it murmured, the man dipping low to kiss his ear and worry the lobe between teasing teeth. “Are we suddenly shy? I wouldn’t have expected shyness from a virgin demanding to be fucked.”

He didn’t bother to correct the man in case it made him take his time even more. Chrollo grit his teeth and turned towards the mouth, locking his fingers into the soft hair before the man could hold him down. “You wouldn’t expect violence, either,” he hissed, forcing their mouths together in an uncoordinated kiss that hurt more than anything.

The man simply made a muted laugh, as if on the contrary, he would expect it, and Chrollo’s eyes went wide as the head of his cock slipped inside him. Any noise he might have made was lost in the bitter kiss. He clenched his hands hard enough to hurt and shuddered, his body on fire.

The dominating lips fell away to groan. “You feel so good, Chrollo,” the voice said, feeding him another inch. “So tight, holding me like you never want me to leave.”

Chrollo couldn’t answer, the air punched from his lungs with every move the man made. He tried to keep relaxed but his body was wound too tightly, pain and pressure and everything compounding into something more than he could handle. His hands scratched and yanked at the hair between his fingers, but the discomfort only seemed to drive the voice faster.

Broken mewls filled the air and Chrollo hid his face in a powerful chest, pulling the man down to cover him as if it would hide him from sight. Like this, he could tell the man was large, strong and trim with muscles that rippled under his touch. The picture forming in his mind sent him reeling, this faceless, Adonis-like figure taking him apart. He couldn’t imagine what he himself looked like and his head fell back as the man’s hands lifted his hips higher, plowing into him faster, harder.

Electricity shook him as something inside erupted in pleasure.

“Do you feel good, love?” the voice asked, his hand skimming up a thigh to wrap around his narrow waist.

Again he struck the place inside him, and Chrollo moaned, arching his back to meet every thrust.

“I thought so,” the voice laughed, kissing him as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste. “You look breathtaking, as if you were made for me.”

He felt his face go even redder and Chrollo moaned through his teeth, losing the fight to control himself. The man took his cock in hand, stroking him in time to the rhythm of their coupling. White danced behind his eyes, brilliant stars lighting the darkness.

“Are you close?”

Chrollo nodded, too breathless to speak and too overwhelmed to try.

He could feel the smile in the dark.

“Then cum for me, Chrollo. Let me see you come apart.”

It didn’t take much more than that.

Chrollo thrashed as he came again, spilling in the man’s hand. His lips formed words but no sound followed. With his eyes wide and unseeing, the man fucked him through his orgasm with a gentleness that matched his touch.

Something hot and wet filled him a moment later and he felt a moan play out against his damp skin, the man reaching his own end. “Chrollo, Chrollo,” he murmured, covering him with kisses, “you feel so good. I want to do this to you forever.”

Whining, Chrollo writhed. “It’s too much,” he said, the lazy thrusts burning like fire along his overwrought nerves. “Please, I can’t.”

“Alright, it’s okay,” the voice soothed, holding him as he began to shake. Carefully he pulled out, going slow so that Chrollo only felt a twinge of discomfort. Cum trickled down his thighs, staining the sheets.

The moment he tried to put distance between them, Chrollo forced his leaden arms to move, reaching again for the face of the one who held him. “Don’t you dare go,” he panted, voice weak. “You can’t leave.” His fingers tangled in soft hair and he yanked until the body returned to him, close enough to feel.

Gentle hands once again cut him off before he could explore though. “I’m here, I’m not leaving just yet,” he promised, settling Chrollo’s small hands above his head. “I wouldn’t want to miss seeing you like this. Such a mess I’ve made of your innocence.”

“And to think I just bathed.” His cheeks burned and he searched for anything else to talk about. “Tell me your name,” Chrollo demanded, tugging at the hands that held his to the bed. “Let me see you. You can’t just touch me like this and keep yourself from me.”

He felt more than heard the laugh, rumbling low in the man’s chest. “I’m afraid I can’t do either, my love. You’ll just have to bear with it.”

Chrollo frowned, a hail of kisses falling to his cheek and neck. “Is there anything you can tell me?” he huffed, his lips tender from the attention.

A contemplative noise sounded and Chrollo felt himself be maneuvered onto his side, a warm, firm body holding him from behind. “I can tell you that you’re mine,” the voice whispered in his ear, smiling against the shell. “You’re safe and you’re loved. Isn’t that enough?”

A hand passed over his eyes and Chrollo went limp, an overwhelming sleepiness hitting him hard enough to stagger. He fought to keep awake, mumbling something back, but the voice simply shushed him.

“Sleep now, Chrollo,” he breathed. “You’ve earned it.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chrollo awoke alone, confused and aching and slowly recognized a pattern forming when he lifted himself from bed and took in the new clothes resting on the sheets next to him. Bruises and marks littered his skin, his hips especially colorful. He tried to match his fingertips to the marks. His head spun when he barely managed. He had thought the man was large, but their hands couldn’t even compare.

A wry smile graced his lips and Chrollo commended himself for his detached cool. He had been ravished by an invisible stranger and left to greet the morning alone. He wondered if he shouldn’t feel abandoned, or at the very least, angry.

Where he stood, he only felt sated.

Stretching as he rose, Chrollo grabbed for the new clothing and dressed quickly, only a little embarrassed to see that the marks higher up on his neck weren’t hidden at all by the fabric. He took in his reflection in the room’s looking glass and his cheeks tinged pink.

His hair was a mess, his lips still a bit swollen from the attention paid to them. No matter how much he tugged and pulled at the crimson chiton, it failed to hide more of the damage done. Chrollo ran his fingers through his hair and averted his eyes, wondering what he must have looked like to a man who could see in the dark.

Chrollo swallowed his embarrassment and turned away from the glass, making for the door without a look back. He needed to focus, he told himself, exiting into the hallway. No matter how pleasant the night had been, he needed to find a way out. Perhaps today he wouldn’t become distracted by the magic thrumming in the house.

There was no servant waiting for him outside the door, or at least, no floating object to signify a servant. Chrollo picked a direction and made for the nearest window in sight. He needed to get his bearings and test the possible means of escape.

He quickly realized it wouldn’t be as simple as finding an unlocked window and making a run for it.

The bedroom was on the second floor, high off the ground to the point that he knew jumping wouldn’t be possible. To add insult to injury, all of the windows on the level were unlocked and opened quite easily. Chrollo breathed in the salt-tinged air and leaned out of one, tasting the sea and wildflowers on the breeze. The bucolic landscape gave him nothing as for where he had been taken. His home wasn’t anywhere near the sea, and he’d never strayed far enough from the city’s walls to have ever seen it.

Chrollo sighed and leaned his head against the frame. At least it was beautiful, this place he had been taken.

The downstairs proved no better in terms of exits. The windows on the ground level were shut tight, locked by some unseen mechanism. On a whim, Chrollo found a heavy candelabra, but even thrown it did nothing to the shiny glass. The metal candle holder clattered against the window and fell to the floor, only to be picked up immediately by invisible hands.

It was embarrassing it itself to realize his attempts had been watched, more so that the servants simply let him try, lingering close to clean up any mess he might make.

Chrollo pointedly watched the candelabra float back into place, his drive to leave only mounting out of spite.

It took him a full two hours of wandering to find the front door, and only because he deigned to ask one of the trailing servants was he informed that the door was locked up completely, no key kept in the house. Chrollo still tried the knob, nearly bruising his shoulder when he got fed up enough to try to break it. The wood was solid oak though and didn’t so much as budge.

A light, apologetic touch fell to his stomach and Chrollo stopped his next charge. His forehead pressed against the cool wood and he sighed, resigned.

“Yes, I’m hungry,” he answered, letting the servant tug at his chiton and coax him from the entrance. His stomach growled as if to offer proof. He rubbed at his aching shoulder while they walked, annoyed at the realization that he was like a songbird, trapped in a cage.

The meal that awaited him took his mind off it, at least for a moment. The servant held out his chair for him, the meal served this time in a small sitting room. A fire crackled nearby, lit to be conscientious to his thin clothes and the perpetual chill that seemed to set in when he stood still. Chrollo stared at the fancy food until his stomach made him move. He ate his fill and drank the wine, sagging into the comfortable chair.

Exhaustion deadened his limbs and, with his stomach full and head slow with the drink, Chrollo moved to a nearby chaise. He needed no blanket this close to the fire. The moment he curled up, his hands pillowing his head, he felt sleep claim him.

He dreamt of warm hands and soft lips, a godlike visage reminiscent of those found in the temple statues. He leaned into every touch, tasting ambrosia and nectar like stardust on his tongue.

 _Why would you want to leave me?_ the figure asked, heavy with faux hurt. _Have I not treated you well?_

 _I’m not a pet,_ Chrollo replied. His lips moved but made no sound. _I need more than food, water, and affection._

The voice laughed and Chrollo felt himself move towards it, like a moth to a fiery flame.

It was then that he realized he wasn’t dreaming, familiar hands running down his thigh to touch where the chiton had risen.

Chrollo registered being carried but his eyes stays closed, too heavy to open to matter how hard he tried. Soft silk brushed his cheek and he leaned into it.

“What a tempting sight you make, sleeping like that,” the voice teased, carrying him through the halls. The scent of flowers tickled his nose and Chrollo could tell they were heading towards the bedroom.

“Tempting enough for you to return for me?” Chrollo murmured, his eyes still shut. He flushed a little as a kiss fell to his head. His memories didn’t do the voice justice, the strong arms hefting him so easily. The vision from his dream filled his thoughts and he saw red, vibrant red. He wondered what it could mean.

Another kiss caressed his ear, making him shiver. “It would take a thousand oceans to keep me from you, my sweet,” came the seductive reply.

Chrollo bit his lip and heard a door open in front of them. The moment they crossed the threshold, the weight over his eyes lifted, bringing with it only more darkness. He wrapped his arms around his captor’s neck, holding him tight.

“You say that but you keep me in the dark. Can I not look upon the face of the one who holds me?” He held tighter when he was lowered to the bed, the down-laden pillows welcoming him back like a long lost friend. “I want to see my kidnapper.”

Soft lips seemed to savor his skin, hands tugging gently at his chiton to bare even more. “Kidnapper? Are we still on that?” the voice asked, smiling against his throat. “I prefer the term ‘lover.’”

The word was more embarrassing than the fondling. Chrollo gave a small gasp when teeth nipped at his throat, soothed a moment later by a warm tongue. His body grew hotter with every touch, and he arched into the man above him, aching for more.

“Lover?” Chrollo breathed, letting his hands be guided over his head. “Is that what we are?”

“It’d please me greatly if you thought of me as one. I could live a hundred lifetimes and never tire of touching you.”

Chrollo felt his cheeks burn. A mouth trailed down his neck and his chiton was slowly tugged at, the delicate fabric coaxed open. Though he had no face to attribute to the voice, the words were more than enough to make his heart pound. “What if I’ve already got a lover?”

With his chest bare, the mouth fell to his stomach, nearly tickling him with its hailstorm of kisses and teasing bites. “I suppose I’ll have to demonstrate my skills then,” the man sighed, his voice mirthful. “So you know you’ve found the better one.”

There was no way to hide his growing excitement. Chrollo covered his eyes with his arms and dutifully lifted his hips for the man to strip him of the chiton completely. The hands on his thighs kept him from closing his legs. “Found?” he asked as he was turned onto his stomach. “Is that what you call it?”

To his horror, the mouth fell to his ass. Strong hands spread him and Chrollo yelped, burying his face into the pillows between his arms. “Perhaps _I_ found _you_ is more fitting. One look at you praying and I was struck,” the voice teased, squeezing his ass before licking into him with no warning.

Chrollo shuddered and jolted but the hands holding him were like iron, clamping him in place to let the dexterous tongue explore. He spread his thighs wider, opened himself up more, and forgot for the moment that though it was dark, his lover could still see him.

He couldn’t imagine what his face must look like and he took special care to keep it hidden in the bedding. It wasn’t enough to completely deaden his noises though. Chrollo mewled and begged, all manner of filth flowing from his mouth as his lover took him apart. Every pass of his tongue sent fire down his spine, long, slender fingers working inside to press against the spot that painted his vison white.

Thighs shaking, Chrollo sobbed into the pillows, biting down on the fabric. He couldn’t imagine anything competing with the pleasure dominating him. If this were the man’s best, or even just a portion of it, Chrollo knew there was no one else who could compare.

The fingers inside him curled and Chrollo lost any semblance of control he might have had. He came with a muffled scream, his entire body shaking like a leaf in a rainstorm. Cum stuck to his stomach, staining the sheets. Through it all, the man kept up his assault inside him, milking him of all he had left to give.

It was when he began to hurt, his nerves frayed and sensitive, that the man finally saw fit to stop. Chrollo sagged into the bed, his ass still up and presented while his upper half trembled against the sheets. Hands explored his skin, taking in all within reach. Chrollo prepared himself for more, but minutes passed by, measured by his ragged breaths and pounding heart and no move was made.

“Are…are you not going to…” he tried, but even though he was a mess of cum and sweat, he still couldn’t bring himself to say what he was thinking. His lover was still hard against his thigh, teasingly rolling against him to leave a sticky trail on his skin.

“Going to what, my love?”

Chrollo frowned and burrowed his face further into the pillows. He could tell by tone alone that he wanted him to say it.

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” he managed, stumbling over the word a bit, his face stained a permanent red.

He made a thoughtful noise and lifted Chrollo’s hips higher, shifting until his cock was between his thighs. “Such energy. You must be very greedy, wanting more so soon after I already made you scream.” With each word he thrust slowly, growling lowly as he fucked the space.

For some reason, the teasing position felt lewder than if the man had simply pushed inside him. Chrollo crossed his ankles and held his thighs together tighter, feeling a rush of power when his lover moaned. Like this, he didn’t feel much pleasure, but the thought of controlling the man’s had him sweating.

Chrollo experimented. He tightened his muscles, massaging the cock each time it slid wetly through. “Does that feel good?” he asked, and he was rewarded by a broken groan and a faster pace. “Do I make you feel good?”

“Yes, yes,” the voice moaned, and he felt the man lean over him, his forehead pressed against his shoulder. “You make me feel so good.”

Fingers laced through his hair and Chrollo’s head was brought to the side, opening his neck up to be kissed and licked and bit. He clenched his thighs and wrung the cock between them, pride swelling to dizzying heights when he felt his lover cum, just like that.

The release coated his thighs and ass, adding to the mess already made of him. Chrollo groaned and hid his face, letting his legs fall open and his lover guide him until he was laying down fully. “I just bathed,” he complained, wondering if his nightly ablutions were pointless given the content of his nights.

“Shhh,” he replied, and a hand was trailed over his waist, his thighs. The stickiness disappeared as if by magic and Chrollo found he was too used to the displays to care. “How’s that?”

“Better, thank you,” Chrollo said, his skin as dry and clean as it had been before they began. Strong arms wrapped around him and he went willingly, trailing his calve against a muscled leg. For a moment, he was confronted again by the sheer size of his lover, the toned body holding him so strong and trim. Though he was sated, he hungered to see him fully and experience the power those muscles held with all five senses.

“I want to see you,” he murmured, running his hand along an impressive bicep. “You feel so beautiful, like a statue made flesh.”

“I think it’s time for bed if you’re already sleep-addled enough to think that.”

“I’m not tired,” he tried, holding all the tighter to his lover. “Tell me about you, please. What is your name? What color is your hair? Is it red? Let me know, I want to know about you.”

“You’re so cute when you’re eager,” the voice laughed a bit tightly, kissing his cheek. “Doesn’t the mystery keep our dalliances exciting? It’d be a shame to ruin the thrill.”

Chrollo turned into the kisses and covered all he could with his own, pressing them impossibly closer until there was nothing between them. “You took me from my home and had your way with me. I think I could do with a bit less excitement. What color are your eyes?” he tried, smiling into the smooth skin against his lips. “You can at least tell me that, can’t you?”

His lover rolled them until Chrollo was again on his back, defenseless against his searing touch. A mouth fell to his neck and Chrollo laughed breathlessly, burying his fingers in the soft hair before his hands could be restrained.

“Your curiosity will be the death of me,” the man crooned, allowing him to tug and stroke and savor him in an unexpected display of generosity. “But if it’s less excitement that you want…”

Chrollo held his breath. The warm hand on his thigh moved higher, along his hip and up his ribs to cradle his cheek. For a moment, he expected another kiss.

A thumb traced his cheekbone and instinct began to blare, telling him something wasn’t what it seemed.

“I think it’s time for you to sleep, love,” the voice said, a laugh underlying his words.

He knew what was coming before the exhaustion hit and he tightened his hands in the hair as if to keep his lover in his arms.

“No, please, don’t” he tried, his arms going limp without his permission. “Don’t leave me,” Chrollo gasped, fighting against the hand that fell over his eyes. “Please, stay with me. I don’t want to wake up alone.”

His pleas were silenced with a dominating kiss and Chrollo keened when the sleep magic enveloped him, smothering him like a blanket. “Sleep, pet,” his lover murmured, lowering him to the pillows with a hand cradling his head.

Chrollo knew he had lost and that there would be no arms holding him when he awoke. His face crumpled in sadness, no amount of kisses enough to bring back the contentedness from before.

He didn’t know how much longer he could keep doing this.


	4. Chapter 4

Loneliness marked the passage of time louder than any clock could and Chrollo stopped getting out of the bed when the morning light saw fit to wake him.

How many days had it been? Chrollo buried his face in a pillow, trying to comfort himself with the scent of his lover still lingering on the fabric. He was the only one he ever saw, the only one to speak to, and he only came at night. It wasn’t enough to sate, not when he couldn’t even see his face.

Feitan’s voice echoed in his mind and he wondered if he had escaped the mob.

A rueful smile quirked his lips. Feitan would be able to afford even more wine now, with his share to spend as well. He could only imagine his friend’s face looking upon the wealth surrounding him now.

Chrollo closed his eyes and lost himself in the idea, dozing the day away to thoughts of his friend and all he had been taken from. Misery weighed down his limbs and emptiness strangled his heart. A servant, as invisible as everything else here, entered with a plate of food but Chrollo couldn’t bear to even look at it.

He had to do something about this. He didn’t think he could take much more of this solitude. The windows would open but the doors wouldn’t.  He knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he could feel the wind against his skin, his friend at his side and his lover’s face alit with the light.

With his thoughts as heavy as they were, he barely registered the darkness pouring in. The night came as quickly as it always did, unnatural with the tinge of ink that made it truly unreadable. Chrollo sighed and sagged into the bedding.

He didn’t even startle when a familiar hand fell to his hair, stroking him like a sleeping pet.

“Chrollo, love,” the voice whispered, a warm chest pressing against his back. “The night has come and with it, me.”

Even with his lover there, Chrollo couldn’t find the energy to so much as stir. He made some sound, no more than a hum to signify that he had heard, but beyond that he gave him nothing.

The hands smoothed down his arm and settled on his hip, their usual proprietary brashness as much of a greeting as any.

Chrollo held himself back from the instinctual urge to lean into the touch.

His lover noticed.

“Chrollo, what is it?” the voice asked, pulling him up and settling him in the man’s lap.

Though he ached for the contact and conversation, he couldn’t shake the dread of it all leaving with the morning light. Closing his eyes, he buried his face into the strong chest. If he held tightly enough, would it keep him there when he woke?

A kiss fell to his cheek and the voice softened even more, concern lacing the words. “Please tell me,” his lover pleaded. “If it’s something I can grant, I will, so please, speak to me.”

A glimmer of hope cut through the dark and Chrollo licked his lips, falling into the warm embrace. “I miss my friend, Feitan,” he whispered, his shoulders hitching as he forced his voice to stutter, as if on the verge of tears. “I’m so alone. I can’t bear this.”

“You’ve got me, love,” the voice tried to comfort, holding him tight and rocking him like a small child. A kiss fell to his damp cheek.

“But do I?” Chrollo’s hands fell limply in his lap and accusation colored his tone. “You won’t let me see you. I don’t know your name.”

Silence fell.

“You don’t need to see me to know me, Chrollo,” the voice tried, gentle fingers stroking through his hair.

Chrollo didn’t bother replying. He knew he wasn’t going to show his face.

A cheek nuzzled his hair. “I can’t show you my face,” the voice whispered, kissing along his cheek. “I’m sorry it causes you distress, but I can’t. What can I do to help? I don’t want to see you like this.” He pulled Chrollo down until he was settled over his chest, his head tucked beneath his lover’s chin.

It was hard to ignore how warm his lover was, or the strong, soothing sound of the heartbeat below his ear. His fingers fell to smooth skin and Chrollo bit his lip.

“Let me see my friend,” he asked, barely loud enough to be heard. “Bring him here, just for one day. I can’t be alone like this anymore.”

He could nearly hear the thought turn over in his mind. Chrollo touched the man’s chest, tracing soft circles in the skin as if it would help get him what he wanted. “Please?” he whispered, letting his lips brush a collar bone.

His lover sighed and Chrollo grinned, hearing warmth, affection, and ultimately allowance.

“For some reason, I find it hard to tell you no,” the voice said. “I’ll bring him tomorrow.”

Joy struck him like lightning and Chrollo kissed blindly at the man’s face until he finally found his lips. “Thank you, thank you so much,” he said, his energy back in spades. He rubbed his nose into his lover’s neck, doing all he could to express his gratitude.

Laughing, the voice smoothed his hands down his body. “You’re very welcome. Anything to see you smile.”

“I want to thank you more,” Chrollo admitted, shrugging off the hands to strip off his garment, leaving himself naked in the man’s lap. He didn’t feel very self-conscious, too used to the weight of his lover’s eyes on find them foreign or unwelcome.

“What did you have in mind, since I’m in a mood to humor you?”

With careful hands, Chrollo slid his fingers down the man’s arms until he reached his wrists. “Let me service you,” he breathed, wrapping his fingers around the wrists and guiding the strong arms above his lover’s head. “Please.”

To his surprise, there was no struggle or outright rejection. He felt the hands grip the pillow and a low chuckle vibrated through the broad chest. “I love it when you’re eager, my love. Do as you wish,” he said, and Chrollo flushed, shocked it had gone so easily.

Something about his vulnerability seemed to have lowered his lover’s defenses. His hands weren’t swatted away as he touched freely, kissing a strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, the soft, wavy hair.

Perhaps it was his way of apologizing for the continued secrecy, the lack of a name or face to put to his form. Chrollo built a mental picture as he worked, moving lower with his mouth to take stock of his lover’s body fully for the first time.

He was tall, the bare skin opening up for miles beneath his hands. Chrollo didn’t know what to do beyond what his lover had done to him, so he used his mouth to kiss the broad chest, his fingertips trailing lower to tease. Searing eyes, invisible in the dark but heavy enough to burn, coaxed him on through his uncertainty.

A hand cradled his cheek and guided him lower. Chrollo’s lips traced something hot, something hard. He flushed, kissing the head of the cock now pressed to his mouth.

His lover made a low groan when he opened up enough to give a cursory lick, bringing his hands up to help guide him through the dark. Chrollo took the length in hand and stroked, licking and sucking the head like he had experienced before. He could hardly imagine taking it down his throat like the voice had.

“Just like that, Chrollo,” he sighed, moaning and threading his fingers through Chrollo’s hair to pull him closer. “Open up a bit.”

Chrollo did as he was told, saliva dripping down his chin as he settled the thick length on his tongue, letting his lover fuck into his mouth with shallow thrusts. His eyes watered and his breath grew short. A small noise, no more than a whine, had the voice moving faster. Chrollo’s jaw ached from the effort of taking him in.

He could only imagine how he must look, folded over the man’s waist with his ass on display. In a fit of embarrassment, Chrollo pulled off to breathe, letting the hard, wet cock rest against his cheek. “You’re so big,” he gasped, staring into the darkness. “How did I take you before?”

“You’re made for me,” the voice answered reverently, and Chrollo gave the cock another lick, stretching his lips to try again. “You’re perfect.”

Heat pooled in his stomach and Chrollo closed his eyes, pretending that the darkness hid him. His fingers were wet with his saliva and he pressed them to his entrance, touching himself like his lover would always do before they came together. His cheeks burned and he moaned through his mouthful, messily preparing himself for the cock on his tongue.

“Are you…” he said, voice heady and low, “Chrollo, are you touching yourself?”

Chrollo managed an embarrassed sound, bobbing his head faster as if to disguise the motions of his hand. The darkness wasn’t his friend, at least not when it came to hiding himself from his nocturnal lover.

His eyes went wide as the voice moaned, a shiver tearing through him strong enough to feel. Displaced air hit him like a breeze and Chrollo leaned back, confused.

“Did you…rip a pillow?” Chrollo asked, his hands falling to the mattress. They were buried in soft, warm feathers, stiff, unlike the down usually used to stuff bedding. He trailed his hands along the flat expanse until it disappeared beneath his lover’s form.

He barely had time to wonder what he was touching before he found his hands seized and their positions flipped.

As his back met the mattress, he failed to feel any of the feathers.

“Put it from your mind,” the voice crooned, and before Chrollo could so much as question it, he was filled.

Head thrown back, Chrollo couldn’t breathe. He scrambled for purchase on the sheets, grabbing at the strong shoulders of his lover. No matter how many times they did it, he never quite got used to the initial stretch or the overwhelming fullness that signified their coupling.

If it were meant to distract him from the mystery he had felt beneath his hand, it was only partially successful.

“You’re not human, are you?” Chrollo moaned, his voice broken from the frenetic pace but his lips grinning. “What sort of creature are you?”

“The kind that wants you,” his lover gave, taking him in hand to keep him from speaking again. “I think that’s more than enough.”

Chrollo closed his eyes and lost himself to the pleasure, his thoughts melting before he could ask for more. He raked his nails down his lover’s strong back, moaning and mewling when a hand hiked up his thigh, opening him up even wider. Everything sang to the rhythm, his entire body alight with the taste of his lover’s skin and the phantom feel of feathers between his fingers.

“I’d moan your name if I knew it,” Chrollo managed to groan, and he grinned when the man came, just like that. “I’d scream it until even the gods could hear.”

“You can’t say things like that, Chrollo,” the voice groaned, shuddering through his aftershocks. His hand sped up until Chrollo was gasping, reaching his peak within seconds.

“You don’t leave me with much choice.” His orgasm came and Chrollo keened, burying his muffled moan in a sloppy, unmeasured kiss. He licked into the talented mouth, grunting when the man pulled out and rested his weight over top of him.

“You drive me completely wild.”

Chrollo smiled, nuzzling the man’s neck.

It was hours later, when he could almost see the darkness lessen with the incoming dawn that the weight of the forced sleep fell over him. Chrollo didn’t fight it, too happy to have been given so much time to simply hold and kiss the lover hidden from him.

When the morning came, he knew he’d have company waiting for him anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

He awoke to Feitan’s angry face looming over him, and even though he saw murder in his dark eyes, Chrollo could only grin.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice hoarse from sleep. “Long time no see.”

“Where the hell am I,” Feitan grunted. “I woke and ghosts chase me.”

“Those are the servants, they’re actually pretty friendly,” Chrollo laughed, pushing his friend’s face back so he could sit up. “Could you hand me that?” he asked, gesturing to the folded clothes waiting at the foot of the bed.

Feitan glared but handed them to him. “Don’t tell me you naked under there,” he said, averting his eyes as Chrollo dressed himself. “Do not tell me you been here, in mansion, fucking away day while I tore city apart looking for you.”

Guilt rose up like a wave, crashing against his kindling joy until it threatened to smother it completely. Chrollo bit his lip and reached for his friend’s shoulder. “I’m not exactly here by choice. I was kidnapped. I had to beg him to let me see you.”

“Who?” Feitan hissed, looking around the room as if his lover might be lurking in the corner. “Where are we?”

“The one who took me, and I have no idea. Somewhere near the sea is all I’ve been able to gather.”

“Well, what he look like? He rich to be in place like this,” Feitan reasoned. “Does he look like nobles?”

Chrollo flushed and looked at the bedspread, tracing his fingers along the embroidery. “I, uh, I don’t really know,” he admitted, embarrassed at having to say it aloud. “I’ve never seen his face. Or any of him.”

He may have missed his friend terribly, but he hadn’t missed the look of pure judgment that only Feitan could make physically sting.

“What you mean you never seen him?” he hissed, rounding on Chrollo. “You fucking him but you never see him? What you do, just keep your eyes shut?”

“He makes it dark!” Chrollo tried, but Feitan merely deadpanned, burying his face in his small hands to groan. “He does though, every time night falls he does something to make it completely dark. I’ve tried to get him to tell me who he is but every time I ask or reach for his face, I’m turned away.”

Feitan dragged his hands down his face and leveled him with a look, one that said he wasn’t impressed.

Chrollo smiled back. “I know it sounds pretty bad, but I’m okay and isn’t that the important part? Here,” he slid out of the bed and took Feitan’s hand in his, guiding him towards the door. “Let me show you around a bit. Are you hungry?”

Grumbling, Feitan let himself be led. “Is food as fancy as this place?” he asked.

“I’d say so.”

It took no time to catch the attention of a servant and even less to be guided to whatever room held the food this time. As he had figured, Feitan lost all complaints the moment his eyes fell to the veritable feast laid out on the low table. He made a direct line to the plum tarts, stuffing his face as Chrollo did the same. It was so much more fun eating with someone else and Chrollo savored the meal, sharing bites and insisting Feitan try this, taste that.

Swallowing around his mouthful, Feitan met his eye and furrowed his brow. “What happened to you?” he asked, as if the thought had just occurred to him. “We split up and then nothing. I thought you been caught.”

Chrollo winced and shifted closer to his friend. “I was,” he began. “I had to get them to chase me so you could get away and I made for the temple, thinking I could hide.”

Feitan raised a brow and drank deeply from his wine, indicating for him to go on.

“I got caught.” The memory rankled and he grimaced. “The brute bashed my head against the stone and tried to pay me back for the chase since I didn’t have the money on me.”

Realization seemed to descend slowly, Feitan’s face crumpling into one of abject fury. He set his cup down with a muted tap. “Where he be?” he intoned. “Who I kill?”

Chrollo chuckled ruefully and patted his friend on the shoulder. “I think he’s already dead. My kidnapper saved me. I woke up here, in the bed with nothing but a headache to show for it.” He turned to look at the fireplace. “He’s really not that bad of a person, all things considered.”

Feitan hummed and angrily tore at a piece of chicken. “So he murdered the fucker? How you know he not monster too?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just look at place.” Feitan gestured around them, the invisible servants scattered about with their platters and pitchers. “What kind of human have this power? He kill man to have you for himself. That doesn’t sound very human.”

His mind drifted to the night before, where the soft feathers had teased his hand for a few moments.

“I think he’s an angel,” Chrollo sighed, leaning into his friend’s side, savoring the familiar warmth. “I felt wings once, when he lost control.”

“Wing? Other creatures have wing, Chrollo. How you know he not harpy? You feel his feet for talon?”

Chrollo frowned and slowly sat up. He hadn’t, not that he recalled at least.

“But he feels like a man,” he posed, turning to look at Feitan.

Feitan stared back, pitying. “Have you think he only try to make you think that? Chrollo, he eat you once he full fucking you.”

 _“Maybe it’s for your benefit?”_ the voice had said, that first night. _“Perhaps I’m a beast and I’d rather give you the illusion of a man?”_

Feitan’s face morphed into one of resignation. “You not thought about it much, have you?” he asked, turning to pull Chrollo into a hug.

“I didn’t really care all that much, since I was enjoying myself for the most part. What do I do?” Chrollo mumbled, burying his face into Feitan’s shoulder. “I can’t just let him use me like this, especially if he plans on eating me.”

“Do what you always do,” he said, patting his back. “Find opening and kill him. Then steal all of this and we sell it.”

Chrollo sighed. “You make it sound so easy. He’s a lot stronger than I am, and I never see him. The room is as black as pitch,” he replied, turning it over in his head.

Dark eyes rolled and Feitan looked put upon, as if talking to a particularly obstinate child. “You must really be lovesick if you being this dense,” he prodded, grabbing Chrollo by the hair and forcing his head up to meet his eyes. “Hide candle. Hide knife. Fuck him. He fall asleep, then you finish. Not very hard.”

Grimacing, Chrollo freed himself from the hand yanking on his hair. “Okay, okay, I’ll do it. Help me find a knife then,” he huffed. Annoyed as he was, there was something comforting about the rough treatment from his friend. It’d been too long since he’d felt it, and he really had missed him.

They split up and tore the mansion apart looking for a single knife that met Feitan’s lofty standards. The kitchen yielded all manner of ones, but it took an hour of bickering for them to agree on a short blade, wickedly sharp and meant for flaying fish. The candle was much easier to come by, the halls littered with them.

Even as they worked, Feitan demanded more from him.

“You know something about him,” he insisted, helping him wrap the knife in a cloth to hide. “You been here for weeks.”

Chrollo chewed the inside of his cheek and searched for a flint. “He’s big,” he said, digging through a chest.

“I not need to know that.”

He paused in his search to roll his eyes at his friend. “His stature, Feitan,” he chided, his cheeks flushing. “He’s tall, far taller than I am. Strong, muscular.” Chrollo stared down at his hands. “He feels like a statue come to life.”

Feitan hummed. “Let’s hope that stone bleed.”

The moment the sun began to settle low in the sky, Chrollo made the decision to retire early to his room.

“You got hours still,” Feitan had complained, wanting to explore more and scope out the spoils. “Doesn’t he only come at night?”

“I want to have time to prepare,” he had said, turning his friend away and encouraging him to wander as he pleased. “I’ll find you if I need you, if he doesn’t take you away before he comes to me.”

He spent the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening going over the plan in his head. For an hour he sat in the bed with his eyes closed, emulating the darkness that would fall when his lover would come. Chrollo practiced taking up the blade and candle, to strike the flint, until it came like second nature, even in the dark.

His thoughts strayed occasionally to his friend and he wondered if he’d see him come morning or if he’d be whisked away as he slept, leaving Chrollo alone again. It would be awful to be stuck here, alone with the help and his lover’s corpse.

Night fell and he settled the weapons behind the bed post, bringing himself back to the present.

Being alone would be better than being devoured.

Stripping off his thin chiton, he laid himself down, his legs spread, and waited for his lover to come.

He didn’t have long to wait.

Ink drifted through the air, seeping into the light until it was smothered like an unwanted flame. In another moment, the voice was chuckling, low and familiar in a way that sent heat through Chrollo’s veins. Even if he were a monster or some man-eating beast, Chrollo still leaned into his touch, too acclimated to it to even think of refusing it.

“Chrollo, just look at you,” the voice said, in awe. “You’re laid out like a present. What could possibly be the occasion?”

“I missed you,” Chrollo breathed, tilting his head up for a kiss. “I missed you so much.”

“Was your guest today not enough to keep you company? I went to so much trouble finding him.”

“No, he was, thank you,” Chrollo gave, pulling his lover over him to kiss him between every word. “But you’re different. I want you so much. Let me thank you for bringing him here.”

“I’ve made you insatiable,” the voice joked. “You thanked me just last night.”

“I want you inside of me,” Chrollo pleaded, doing his best to entice.

“Who am I to deny you anything when you ask so nicely?”

Chrollo yelped as he was rolled and settled over the man’s lap. With an experimental roll of his hips, he found his lover’s cock against his own, growing harder with every shift. “This is certainly new,” he breathed, rocking them together until he was just as excited.

“I want to see you thanking me, is all.”

Chrollo flushed when he realized what that meant. His hand jumped as something round and smooth was pressed into his palm. “What is this?” he asked, feeling it in the dark. “Is this a jar?”

His lover laughed and opened it for him, dipping Chrollo’s fingers in the slick oil. “You’re one gift I want to watch be opened. Don’t hold back.”

“Why are you like this?” he groaned, coating his fingers liberally before reaching between his legs.

“Maybe I like to see you flustered.”

Chrollo grumbled, “Maybe I’d like to see you flustered as well,” as he pressed in a finger, the breach smooth and painless. He shut his eyes and focused on his breathing, opening himself up as quickly as possible for the eyes watching him, rapt.

“It’d take a lot from you to get me there,” the voice teased, his hips rolling to rub a bit against Chrollo. “But I’d love to see you try.”

He took it as the challenge that it was. A third finger pressed inside and he savored the stretch for a few minutes, his breathing the loudest thing in the dark room. His face stained red, he pulled his hand away, using the remaining oil to slick the eager cock before him.

“You feel so hot,” he said, running his thumb over the dripping head. “You feel so beautiful.”

“You look beautiful,” his lover said softly, a tinge of a moan lowering his voice.

Chrollo felt his ears burn and he bit his lip, rising up onto his knees to position the cock to his slick entrance. He impaled himself slowly, throwing his head back to moan as he was filled. His frame shook and he couldn’t bring himself to pause, only stalling for half a breath before lifting himself for more.

Below him, his lover shook just as much. Strong hands fixed themselves to his waist, helping him to move as his bouncing became more confident. In this position, Chrollo’s hands were free to explore his lover’s chest.

He knew it, but he chose to touch himself instead.

“Oh, please,” he whispered, bringing his fingers to his throat, his nipples, trailing the stray oil down his chest. “Please, please.”

He felt more than heard the man groan, no doubt seeing him as clearly as if it were midday. Chrollo moved the pace faster, ignoring the pleasure tingling along his spine to work the cock inside him.

Experimentally, he clenched around the hardness, treating it the way he had when it had been settled between his thighs. White fluttered along his vision and the cock twitched.

Breath ragged and body trembling, his lover fucked into him harder. “Where are you learning this?” he gasped, awestruck. “Every night you have new tricks up your sleeve.”

“I just want to please you,” Chrollo keened, clenching rhythmically along to every thrust. His head lolled on his shoulder and he stared down at his lover through the darkness. “Do I feel good?”

“So good it’s unreal.”

“I’m so glad,” and Chrollo gave his hips a twist, grinding down on his lover’s cock with a viciousness that sent even his head reeling.

And just like that, his lover came with a strangled moan. Hot and wet, the release flooded into him and made him shudder. It took everything he had to hold back his own orgasm, slapping away the hand that reached out as if to work him off as well.

“Again, again,” Chrollo panted, laving his lover’s ear with his tongue. “Fuck me again, I want to be filled with you, let me cum on your cock alone.”

The man groaned as if dying but rolled his hips, his cock trying its best to keep up. “You really are insatiable,” he moaned, thrusting up hard enough to make Chrollo throw back his head.

They came together again and again, Chrollo’s stamina pushed to the edge until he feared falling unconscious from the exhaustion alone. He let himself cum only once, holding himself back to force his lover into trying to sate him.

Chrollo kissed along the salt-damp neck, marking the skin and moaning in his ear. If he hadn’t insisted on this position, Chrollo knew he probably wouldn’t have been able to hold out for as long as he had.

“Once more,” he begged brokenly, tears streaming down his cheeks from the overwhelming need. “Please, love, please, just once more.” He was nearly damp with cum, every thrust a loud, wet reminder of the number of times they had come together.

“I…I don’t-” his lover gasped, trembling as if caught in a chill. “Chrollo, I’m-”

Mewling, Chrollo ground down on his cock, clenching and grinding until it hardened inside him once again. “You feel so good,” he said, moaning it against his ear. “Fuck me, lover.”

It was the pet name that really seemed to do the trick. With a grunt, the man bucked, his fingers gripping his hips with bruising strength to drag him back down. Chrollo let out a silent scream, writhing on the man’s lap until he found it impossible to hold back any longer. He came, finally allowing himself the release he’d denied himself for so long.

“So good, you feel so good,” he murmured, staring into the darkness until he thought he could feel the eyes meet his. “Use me, fuck me, fill me up until you’re all I can feel.”

His lover lasted another minute before losing what little control he still possessed. Another wave of hot wetness flooded inside him. Chrollo shuddered and fell to the man’s chest, tangling his hands in the soft, sweaty hair to steal what little air he had left in his lungs with a kiss.

The man was unconscious before Chrollo saw fit to break it.

Pulling away carefully, he eased himself up onto liquid legs to let the cock fall free of him. His entire body thrummed with exertion, exhaustion a numbing force akin to the type the man himself seemed to command. Chrollo rolled onto the mattress next to his lover, allowing himself a moment to recover before making for the hidden tools.

Nervous butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He was about to see him, his mystery lover. For all he had been through, he still hoped not to find a monster. All the wealth in the world couldn’t compare to the thrill of being held by him.

His hands shook a little as he struck the flint, the sparks near blinding in the dark. Eventually they caught the candle’s wick and he allowed himself a moment for his eyes to adjust, cupping the flame to keep it from waking the man. He stared at the wall until it came into focus. He wanted the sight of his lover to be perfect, untainted by the light’s glare.

The knife in hand and his breath held, he knew he had procrastinated long enough. He closed his eyes and turned, opening them onto the slumbering man at his side.

The form before him was anything but a beast.

Chrollo stared and his hand began to shake as he looked down upon the sleeping man. Dark red hair fanned upon the pillow, curling slightly around the face of the most beautiful man Chrollo had ever seen.

Soft, flawless skin was as pale as stardust, the man’s muscles large and defined. Beneath the sheet pooled at his waist, Chrollo could just make out sharp hipbones and the scratch marks given by his own nails. He held his breath as he set the candle on the bedspread.

Who was this? He wondered, his thoughts straying back to the statues in the temple. There was a resemblance there, fleeting but enough to tell him that he was entertaining divinity.

An inexplicable joy flooded his chest the more he looked. His lover wasn’t some hideous beast keeping him to devour, but a beautiful, godlike being. Carefully he pulled back the sheet and saw that the pale skin continued on, no sign of any beastly appendages. His cheeks flushed as he took in the flaccid length resting against the man’s thigh, its size so much more intimidating now that he could see it. Thin, translucent liquid gave the perfect skin a dull sheen.

They really had made a mess of each other.

He tossed the knife aside and crawled closer, laying himself next to his handsome lover. Errantly he reminded himself to apologize to Feitan. A lover this beautiful couldn’t meet his end at the point of a knife, even if he were richer than a king. Who could resist a god?

Giddiness filled him. A grin tore across his face, too wide to swallow down. So he hadn’t been dreaming then, when he thought he saw red. He stroked his fingers through the wavy hair, wondering why else it seemed so familiar.

Recognition came to him slowly and his hand froze against the man’s cheek.

“….Eros?”

The man stirred, opening his eyes. Chrollo couldn’t breathe. They were pure gold.

“Did I fall asleep?” he mumbled, his thick lashes catching slightly on his bangs. His smile was so warm when he took in Chrollo beside him. It was almost heartbreaking how beautiful he was.

Chrollo sucked in a breath, too shocked to answer.

And just like that, the god’s expression molded into one of utter alarm. Chrollo reached for him but Eros reared back, scrambling across the bedding in search of space.

“You aren’t supposed to see me,” he breathed, brilliant eyes narrowing into something harsh. “Chrollo, do you know who I am?”

He tried again to touch him, only to have his hand swatted away. “You’re Eros, aren’t you?” Chrollo asked, frowning. “You heard my prayer and saved me. Why won’t you let me touch you?”

Eros grimaced. “That’s not my name but it figures you’d know me as that. You ruined my game. I never expected you to get so crafty just to see me.”

“A game?” he asked, confusion warring it out with the obvious. The countless nights, the perpetual denials to see him. The god had had him in every sense, coaxing him closer until Chrollo was hooked. His hands tightened into fists.

Anger won out.

“Was this all just a game to you?” Chrollo hissed, matching every inch the god made until he had him backed up to the edge of the bed.

His fury had him moving before he realized, but the god was too quick, snatching up the cast off knife before he could take it in hand.  Iron-like hands wrapped around his wrists, and no matter how hard he struggled, Chrollo couldn’t free himself enough to strike at the handsome face.

“What an odd way to show gratitude,” he muttered, smiling ruefully. “We’re you planning on killing me if I wasn’t as pretty as you hoped?”

“Only if you had claws and the intention of eating me, which I think is fair considering the way you’ve gone about this,” Chrollo shot back, getting annoyed. He leaned into the god’s space, nearly crawling into his lap now that he was unable to retreat any farther. “Tell me your name, Eros, so I know what to say when I brag about killing you.”

“I think I preferred you wanting my name so as to scream it to the gods themselves, though I hardly know them to be the type to care to listen,” the god teased, holding Chrollo’s hands together to let his own explore. “Pleasure is my thing and I’m still winded from your last display.”

As angry as he was and as hard as he thrashed, Chrollo felt himself heat up. His eyelids fluttered and he rolled his hips into those below, hungry for more than what his frustration demanded. “I want to see you cum like this, in the light. I’m not going to wait for you to leave me,” Chrollo demanded. “I may have been a game to you but I won’t let you quit now that I want to play too.”

The god grinned and fell to his neck, licking a warm stripe into his skin. “What a declaration. I knew I was right to want you.” Chrollo drew in a sharp breath when teeth nipped at his earlobe.

“Hisoka,” the god murmured, his lips barely grazing Chrollo’s ear. “My real name is Hisoka. You mortals call me all manner of things, but this is who I really am.”

“Mmm, Hisoka,” Chrollo gave, tasting the name as it rolled across his tongue. “Hisoka, you’re terrible. Touch me. Don’t ever leave me again.”

“How could I when I have you like this? I want you forever,” the god answered, laying him down to kiss along his electric skin. “Always.”

There were no words to convey how much Chrollo wished for that as well. He spread his thighs, wrapping his legs around Hisoka’s waist to pull him in. His body screamed at him for it, but Chrollo paid it no mind. The sight of his beautiful lover’s face was louder, ringing behind his eyes.

“Your wings,” Chrollo gasped, clawing at Hisoka’s shoulders. “Show me your wings, I want to see them.”

Hisoka laughed. “Do you want to see my quiver too?” he teased, but Chrollo didn’t respond, his eyes fixed to the brilliant wings that manifested as if coalesced from the air itself.

His fingers trailed along them, touching all he could reach. They were so soft. With them, he resembled so much the statue from the temple.

“Do you like them?” Hisoka whispered, pressing his cock to Chrollo’s entrance.

Chrollo went limp and tugged him inside. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

The god moaned in his ear, savoring every inch as he sheathed himself inside. “I had forgotten you were impious,” he groaned, a laugh in his voice. “I suppose being chosen by a god gave you some much needed piety.”

It hadn’t, but Chrollo let him think it, if only to keep him moving. Though they had been like this countless times before, the gentle candlelight painted the mood endlessly intimate. With no more words, the joking tone lost in their shared breaths, Hisoka seemed to soften. His sharp smile turned loving, his golden eyes melting like amber.

Chrollo drank all of it in, drowning in the sight of his lover’s pleasure.

He was denied it though a moment later when Hisoka buried his face in Chrollo’s neck, his eyes closed tight as if to hide from his intent stare. The wings trembled as he rocked, far more honest than the god in that sense.

“Don’t,” Chrollo managed, threading his fingers through fiery red hair with a gentle tug. “Hisoka, please, I want to see you. Let me watch you cum.”

“And you say I’m the embarrassing one,” Hisoka whispered, dutifully opening his golden eyes with the faint trace of a blush dusting his impossibly high cheekbones. His mouth went lax as he thrust in slowly, so languidly that Chrollo stopped breathing.

“You’re so handsome,” Chrollo said, unable to look away from the face of his lover. “Hisoka, Hisoka,” he moaned, burying his face in the god’s neck to whisper in his ear, “you’re beautiful, so beautiful. How are you mine?”

Hisoka shuddered and wrapped an arm around his back, rolling them until Chrollo straddled his waist and looked down on him. His hair fanned out on the pillows, a burning halo to frame his perfect face. The feathers of his wings curled upwards as if to embrace him as well, the tips grazing the floor. The god’s face crumpled into something akin to reverence and Chrollo leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together to share the air between them.

His lips against Hisoka’s, Chrollo moaned.

“I love this, I love you,” he said, kissing between every word. “Never leave me again, Hisoka, please.”

“I won’t, Chrollo,” Hisoka sighed, taking Chrollo in hand to work him in time to the slow rolls and languid thrusts. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

Chrollo whined and, though he ached to close his eyes to the pleasure, kept them open to watch every moment. Hisoka was so beautiful. Too beautiful. Divinity defined in marble limbs turned flesh.

When they both finally met their end, they did so together. Chrollo buried his moan in his lover’s kiss, cradling his face close until not even an inch of space separated them from each other’s touch. Hisoka pierced him with his golden gaze, drinking him in. Something unspoken passed between them, Chrollo tasting pure light. His eyes finally closed.

He had never felt so adored.

\-----

Morning light streamed in through the windows and Chrollo sighed as the sun warmed him where Hisoka wasn’t touching. As it fell on the god’s skin, Chrollo traced the golden glow with the tip of a finger, a smile growing on his lips. The wings had disappeared during the night, giving way to the miles of smooth muscle that made up his back.

“Hisoka,” he whispered, breaking the god from his slumber. He still couldn’t get enough of the name on his tongue. It felt so right. It tasted like belonging.

Hisoka hummed, his eyes opening slowly to smile at him. “Yes, my love?”

“Hisoka, its morning.”

“So it is,” he gave, his brow furrowing a bit. He wrapped his fingers around Chrollo’s thigh, tugging at him until he straddled his waist. Like this, they could kiss and touch, the sunlight haloing Chrollo’s dark hair.

“It’s morning,” Chrollo said when Hisoka failed to grasp the reason behind his excitement. “I woke up and you’re still here. It’s our first morning together.”

A warm, affectionate smile broke across Hisoka’s face and he kissed Chrollo’s cheeks. “The first of them all, Chrollo,” he whispered, his hands trailing along Chrollo’s thighs. “You’re mine forever now.”

Chrollo buried his face in the god’s neck, nipping the skin. “Do you promise?” he murmured, cupping Hisoka’s cheek with a hand and stroking along an impossibly sharp cheekbone.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

They kissed again, marking an eternity against each other’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woot and here we have it! i hope you guys enjoyed this little dabble into another one of my favorite myths. this entire thing sorta happened on a whim so i apologize if the ending isnt all that satisfying, i simply wrote what spoke to me and this is the final product. let me know how you felt and what your impressions were with this, i wanna try to improve my long game so that i get better at churning out these bigass chaptered works. check me out on tumblr (terminallydepraved) and let me know how you liked this! until next time~

**Author's Note:**

> same deal as Brontide, every five comments gets you a new chapter so please let me know how you liked this!!


End file.
